Humble Beginnings
by Nellie Elwood
Summary: The Gladers all have their own mysterious pasts. They were all chosen to be subjects for a reason. After all, average kids don't go to the Glade. When did they join WICKED? How did the government find them? Why were they selected? You're about to find out. PS I don't own the characters/story etc.
1. Newt (1)- Testing

Nate's mother pulled him along through the thick snow in the city streets. He was tall for his age, but he was also very thin, and at barely six years old he found it nearly impossible to navigate the tall heaps of white. In a hurry, his mother had already pulled him over twice as he tried to keep up with her from behind. Again he felt his soaked shoes begin to slide, his center of gravity shifted dangerously, and he wobbled, finally falling in a heap on the icy sidewalk.

His mother held his right hand so he had only his left to catch himself. Nate's hand slid across the ice and the skin of his palm scraped painfully against the unfrozen part of the sidewalk. His knees, too, were now crimson with blood after scraping them all three times he had fallen.

"Damn it, Nate." his mother said exhaustedly "Get up, then." Nate slipped again as he tried to stand "_Jesus_" his mother said, condescendingly as she grabbed him by the armpits and stood him up again.

Everyone knew that Lacy Carson was a terrible mother, but there was nothing to do about it but watch. The flare took out every part of the government, save WICKED, and that included anyone that could help Nate's situation.

The boy was skin and bones from a lack of food that his mother and the many men who visited her apartment didn't seem to have. His skin was colored purple and black in many places after many of the men left, and some did worse than just hit him.

Nate was a quiet boy, in fact he rarely spoke, and when he did it was usually out of necessity. He was smart, though. Actually, smart was an understatement for Nate, who read whatever books he could find in the wasteland he knew as home- it used to be known as Canada.

Nate had read and remembered the encyclopedias of the letters F, M, Q, and T. He got bored one day and, using a stray textbook he'd found, taught himself pre-algebra.

All this, Nate's ability to learn, was why they were out today. His mother was taking him to a testing center. WICKED was going to pay the parents with the smartest kids to give WICKED the kids to keep for a few years while they did experiments.

When they got to the building Nate's mum released her grip on his hand.

"You'll take the test. When you're done you'll check the time. If it's before five o'clock you'll stand right here and wait for me. If its after five you'll have to walk yourself home, do you understand?" Nate nodded silently, but his mother looked irritated "I said, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mum" said Nate quietly.

By the time the word "Mum" was all the way out she had already left him standing before the daunting building alone. Nate walked in on wobbly knees, and was immediately lifted off the ground by a guard standing around the corner of a long corridor. Nate cried out as the guard put pressure on a rib that had probably been cracked earlier that week.

The guard saw the bruise soon after, and paused. He plopped Nate into a chair, and looked the Nate in the eye.

"Sorry Kid." He said "I'm Adam. I'll be with you all day, but first we have to make sure you're not sick, understand?" Nate nodded his head, and Adam, who was an enormous black man, pricked his finger and popped the little glass piece holding his blood into a small machine.

They waited, and after just a few moments the machine gave back a small green slip. Nate looked to Adam, whose worried look gave Nate quite a scare, until he said

"Well, you're not sick. I've got to say though, I was hoping you'd be immune." Nate figured he couldn't have hoped for more.

"C'mon then, boy" he said pulling Nate gently out of the testing chair and holding his hand as they walked down the corridor. Nate followed silently, but he was content. It was warm here, and he'd heard that the testers usually give the kids food before they test. And having had nothing all day he was excited.

After walking a little down the hall Adam turned to a door, he opened it up and gestured for Nate to go in first. The first thing there was a ginger man behind a desk who waved Nate over.

Nate went to him and the desk man handed him a long form and said

"Go and fill out what you can, then bring it back to me." Nate gave a smile and a half nod to show that he would do as the man said, and he went to sit in one of the small plastic chairs behind the desk. Adam plopped down next to him, and Nate thought the tiny chair might totally collapse for a moment, but it held out. He began the form writing his name, and birthday, and everything else it asked

"Hm" said Adam "your name's Nate, then" Nate nodded and finished the form, which asked all kinds of odd questions like did he talk in his sleep, or had he ever had a food allergy that could kill him, and was he physically disabled in any way?

He said no on almost all of them, and put the form on the desk, Adam following closely behind him.

"Is everything in order, Marv? Adam asked. The desk man looked intently at the sheet for a few moments, and then, without looking up said

"Yeah, he's good to move to physical," Nate's heart skipped a beat. He would never pass a physical test. He was thinner than paper, and his legs were so long that Nate could barely keep them under himself. He was famished, and hoped that there wouldn't be running.

Nate's hopefulness crashed around him when he saw a treadmill in the middle of the room Adam took him to next

"You might as well not test me." Nate said, speaking aloud for the first time "I won't pass. I'm too tired to run, and I can barely do it when I'm not"

A man in a doctor's coat who looked very like a rat, in fact the similarity was shocking, turned and said "Doesn't matter." he was American "we're not testing how fit you are, just how fit you can get. We won't hold much against you since you're obviously nearly starved."

"Really?" said Nate "He'd never known that his skinniness was all that noticeable.

"Yup" said the rat man, looking impatient, now.

Nate did the tests, and by the end he was beyond exhausted. As he stepped into the hallway he saw black spots cover his eyes in a pattern that looked like someone was burning up his eyesight. At the same time he felt like he could feel the world spin, and his legs fell out from under him. He felt Adam catch him.

The next thing Nate knew, he was back in the room with the treadmill, but this time he was lying on a cot in the corner of the room. Adam was watching him from a chair next to the cot when his eyes opened.

"Here, drink" Adam said, holding out a glass of juice. Nate sat up, feeling like the one motion had sapped all the energy that sleeping had given him, and took the glass. He drank.

Nate could feel the energy from the sugary juice pump through him, and he felt better than he had in days.

Adam tousled Nate's dirty blonde hair with a sympathetic look.

"How long's it been since you've eaten, mate?" He asked, looking sad. Nate shrugged, he honestly didn't know. Maybe the day before, but probably not because Mum'd had someone over.

"I'll go get you some food since you're looking better." said Adam

Adam came back after a short while with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. It had probably come from a can, but Nate hadn't had a hot meal in ages and he began wolfing it down

"Slow down, there mate. you don't want it to bloody come back up, do you?" Nate shook his head, and slowed down.

His shirt was loose, and one of the sleeves of his shirt slipped up his arm, revealing a handprint shaped bruise on his forearm. Adam gently took Nate's arm into his hand.

"Who did this, then?" The man asked "Your Dad?" Nate shook his head

"Never knew him." Adam looked worried

"Mum, then?" he asked

"Not mostly," Said Nate, now extremely uncomfortable. But he knew that he'd have to answer if he wanted to go with the people from WICKED. "She- she has people over sometimes" he answered hesitantly

"Does your mum know they do this to you?" Adam asked. Nate nodded, looking at the floor in embarrassment.

"Things will get better for you if you get chosen." Adam said with a sad sort of smile.

"What's next?" Nate asked, trying to change the subject.

"That'll be the intelligence testing, it's just across the hall, but I'm going to put a bandage on your hand first" Adam bandaged Nate's scraped hand, and Nate wondered how he'd known it was his writing hand.

The test was easy for Nate- it did takes some time, but the other kids in the room all seemed to just give up about halfway through, so he was the only one remaining when he finished.

After that he was allowed to leave, and Adam said that he'd pick Nate up fom his house in a week's time if he'd been chosen. Nate looked at the clock, 6:15pm. He sighed unintentionally, and headed for the door.

"Are walking home? the address you put down in ages away. Have you even got anyone to walk with?" Nate shook his head. Adam grabbed Nate's hand and they wordlessly walked towards Nates home. Finally, they arrived. The apartment building was on the very verge of falling down, and it was a dark winter evening.

"Bye, then," said Adam who truly did not want to leave the boy there "want to know a secret?" Nate nodded "I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing you next week." It warmed Adams heart seeing the light that filled Nate's eyes. He remembered his brother Isaac before he'd gotten sick.

As the boy walked into an apartment and Adam heard a scolding, and a ruckus he hoped didn't involve Nate, He hoped he'd been right about seeing him next week. Nate would surely be picked, but Adam had a horrible doubt that he might not make it that long.


	2. Newt (2)- Pick Up

"He's the best candidate we've assessed so far, apart, of course, from Thomas and Theresa. That's beside the point, though. Nate Carson will provide invaluable blueprints." said Adam.

"What's your point? I've already accepted him. We're going to use him as a subject, what more do you want for the boy?" Janson asked, sounding bored.

"He's- and don't laugh at this, Janson- He's in trouble." Janson Ignored his worker's request and chuckled condescendingly. Adam gave a frustrated huff "No, really. You and I both saw how starved he was, and he fucking collapsed-" Janson held his hand up

"What did I tell you about cursing in front of your superiors?" He said, irritated.

"Shucking, then. It doesn't matter. He's getting starved and beat up, and he might not be alive by the time we go to pick him up. He's too valuable to lose." Janson gave a sympathetic sigh.

"I get it Adam. I really do. Isaac was a lovely boy, and it's a real shame that his life ended the way it did, but that doesn't mean that every time you see a kid his age you can take them under your wing. You know what will happen to the kids who are chosen. To Nate, probably. You can't honor your brother's memory by trying to save everyone who is remotely similar to him. Might I suggest something more simple? preventing people from cursing in front of him, perhaps…" Adam just stared. Did Janson just tell him something about his personal life?

"Regardless," Continued Janson, "we can't pick Nate up early- it would be against unless you can convince the Chancellor, you'll just have to wait the full week before you take him up to headquarters.

Adam slumped back in his chair, defeated.

The week passed extremely slowly. Adam had spent the vast majority of it worrying about Nate, as Janson had banned him from visiting the boy at his apartment. Finally it was time to go pick up him up. Nate happened to be the only kid they were taking from these parts so Adam could pick him up at any time. Because he was so worried he decided he would knock on the door at exactly midnight.

He approached the building nervously, and as he got near Nate's Mother's apartment he could hear a child crying. The crying was followed by an enormous crash and a shout that Adam could now recognize as Nate's

"_Mum, Please! Don't!_" Adam was running then, and he could hear the desperation in Nate's voice.

"_Stop it! Stop messing about!_" He cried as Adam threw the door open holding a tranq gun.

But he didn't see what he expected.

Nate was pale and, if possible, even thinner than he had been the week before. His face was coated in blood, and he sported multiple new bruises. In the fraction of a second that it took Adam to take the scene in, the woman had dropped the knife she was holding to her arm and pulled gun, a real one, from god-knows-where.

"Mum, don't it's not what you think" Nate said in a horrified whisper. She looked her son straight in the eyes, and held the gun to her head.

"Remember, this is _all your fault._" she said. And then she pulled the trigger.

Nate stood in shock, just feet from his mother's body. He was spattered with her blood, and he looked like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"She thought you were here to arrest her and send her to the crank palace." he said quietly. "I-I think she might've been I'll." he said. And then whether it was from malnutrition, or shock, or blood loss they boy collapsed, and Adam was there to catch him once again.

Nate awoke in a berg having been hooked up to several monitors, and bags of liquid. There was a tube down his throat, and he could feel it breathing for him, but he was at such a level of exhaustion that he no longer cared. The rat man was sitting across from his bed, reading. He looked up.

"Oh, good. I thought you'd never wake up. No, really." he said, laughing at his own joke. "You don't have to worry. You're not a crank. Neither was your mum, actually. She was ill even without the Flare. You won't be seeing your buddy Adam again, unfortunately. He broke protocol by pulling that tranq gun. And look what came of it. You'll learn a lesson today, about breaking protocol." Janson picked up a handheld speaker, and clicked it on.

"Send him in," He said. Adam entered almost immediately.

"Oh my god. Is he going to be okay?" Adam asked, panicking. He brushed some hair out of Nate's weary eyes.

"Oh, _the boy_ will be fine in good time. You need to be worried about yourself right now." Janson pushed a button on one of the machines hooked up to Nate, before pulling a gun. Nate saw Adam put his hands up, and beyond a wall of tiredness he knew that Adam was saying something, but Nate heard the shot, and saw blood spatter the walls. The last thing he understood was Janson talking to him

"You know, you really are quite like his brother. Actually, another Isaac was very smart, just like you. We can call you Newton like him. Or maybe Just Newt.

Nate tried to move his arm to hit Janson. He tried to scream or cry, or do anything, but all he could do was close his eyes. He barely heard Janson say

"This will all just be a dream by the time you see me next" and then the darkness swallowed him.


	3. Newt (3)- Headquarters

The next time Nate opened his eyes he was in a hospital bed next to another boy, who was reading a clipboard intently. The tube was out of his mouth, and he could feel that he'd gained some weight. In a good way. He felt an odd breeze on his head, and realized that his previously shaggy hair had been buzzed down to be very short. He could feel bandages covering his head.

"wha…?" he said to himself quietly.

"They had to buzz your head to do surgery on it." Said the boy on the other side of the room, "They were only going it to put in a chip for the experiment, but there was so much fluid build up from hitting your head that they had to fix that too. That's why you've got more bandages than me." The boy was American, like the rat man, whose name he'd learned was Janson, and like Adam. His skin was dark black, and his eyes were a color like a sunset seen through a bottle of whiskey. They were sharp and perceptive.

"Who did that, then?" The boy asked nodding towards his ribs which were bound up to heal. Because they were bound up, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and all his other bruises and scars also showed.

"Loads of people" Answered Nate "To many to remember,"

"Sorry," Said the boy looking uncomfortable

"No need." replied Nate "I'm Nate, by the way."

"Not according to this" The boy said, holding up the clipboard. "They rename you once you're a subject. you got 'Isaac Newton' AKA 'Newt'. Know why?" He asked

Nate shook his head, remembering the berg, wondering if that had really happened. "My Name's not Newt, though. it's _Nate_." he stressed. The other boy looked a touch worried and said,

"You can't let people hear you say that, mate. You'll get in loads of trouble. You didn't get that bad a name, really. I had a brother named Isaac once." Nate froze.

"You didn't… didn't happen to have any other brothers, did you?" The boy looked confused,

"Yeah, actually. Isaac was my twin, but I also have an older brother who works here named Adam. He's gone on recruiting, but He should be back today. I'm called Alby by the way." Alby looked around nervously "But my name is Jude."

**Author's Note**: FYI Next Chapter will be about Chuck, but I will come back to this plot line in later chapters


	4. Chuck (1)- Volunteer

Owen Langly's last home was just above the scorch. He lived with his two parents, and four younger siblings, taking care of them most of the time. His family had been farmers since before the sun flares, and his Mother's impeccable skill with mending fallow soil meant that the family got by just fine on the funds from the produce they sold. It was shocking to Owen how much some people would pay for something as unappetizing as broccoli.

Owen's family was very close, and even though all of his siblings were far younger than him they were his best friends. Mable, Rory, Joel, and Joanna were constantly at odds, but they were all very sweet when alone.

Owen was ten when the family was finally affected by the Flare- like most families at the time. He thought he could see the disease in his mother's eyes when she got home from a sale one day. When he saw it in his father's while he cooked dinner a few nights later Owen realized that it was, then, too late. The whole family would go insane, and all he could do was pretend it wasn't happening. Owen Noticed the madness in his parents first. His father would sometimes try to run away, claiming that the other children were trying to kill him. His mother would sit for hours, just staring the wall, and when he asked her what she was thinking about she would turn, smiling at him. But her smile wasn't comforting. It was closer to horrifying.

He saw it in the other kids later. When they fought they didn't care about anything but hurting each other as much as possible. Owen started having to break them up. He had to hold them away from each other while they struggled against him, and he collected bite marks and bruises on his arms for his troubles. When the kids came back to reality their faces broke Owen's heart. They cried guiltily, and went to their mother for forgivness. But all she did was stare.

It came to the point where she would struggle so much whenever Owen tried to feed her that he couldn't anymore. He watched her waste away.

His father was then totally insane, and most of the time he crawled around the house, convinced that he was an infant. He pissed and shat himself, and Owen changed him and feed him pureed food. He stopped talking and Owens siblings hated seeing him, because he scared them. They would sometimes try to kill their father, so Owen had to keep them locked up at night, and he had to keep his father locked in their parent's old room all day. His mother's corpse had begun to reek.

One night while he fed the kids one at a time so that they wouldn't fight each other he heard a gunshot. Owen sprinted up to his parent's room and found exactly what he had feared. His father must've had a last moment of clarity, and used it to shoot himself.

Owen slid to the floor and put his head between his knees, trying to calm down. His breath came too quickly, and too deeply. He remembered back before this had all happened. Before the other kids, even. He had been six years old, and he worked in the field all day with his parents. At lunch he fell asleep on the ground and his parent's nearly had heart attacks looking for him in the tall grass, but when they found him they weren't mad.

His father picked him up, hugging him tightly saying

"Don't leave us like that, Okay? Don't ever leave us sweetheart." His mother kissed his face, and cried she was so happy to find him.

Owen came back to reality, and realized that his father's blood had spread to where he sat, and his hands were now covered in it. he went to the sink in the bathroom and scrubbed obsessively at his arms. He heard a crash and screaming from the kitchen. He sprinted down to the kids and saw his worst nightmare coming true. Joanna's tiny body lay lifeless on the ground. One of the other kids had ripped her throat out.

He could see blood on Rory's face, and Owen was angry at the kids for the first time. He looked at his little brother,

"Look what you've done!" He screamed "Look at her! Youre a god damned savage!" at that moment Rory's insanity washed temporarily from his eyes as he looked a Joanna in fear.

Mable, looking like she'd just fallen down a mountain, came up behind Rory, and smashed a brick into his back. She fell over, dead soon after and Owen knew that She'd killed Joel. Rory was still in a state of sanity and he was hyperventilating between screams. Owen held him tightly to his chest.

"Owen, I killed her. I killed her, Owen. She's dead." he said over and over again.

"It's okay, Little One. I forgive you. it's okay. I'm sorry." said Owen back. He stayed with his brother while he died slowly.

"I want to die, Owen. Why won't I just die?" he asked. Finally he said

"Owen, please kill me. Please." Owen kissed Rory's head. He raised in his hand the same brick that Mabel had used. He had no clue where she'd gotten it. Owen smashed it ruthlessly against his little brother's head.

And he realized that nothing would ever be okay again. Not ever. His parents and siblings were dead. He had killed his little brother. He had killed an innocent child, and the world was a heartless hopeless place, void of any of the good it had pretended to have before, because Rory died with his little sister's blood on his lips.

Owen left the house a few hours later, till covered in his family's blood. He'd forgotten what the air smelled like when something wasn't decomposing near by. Owen walked directly to the recruiters for WICKED

"I'm immune." he said mechanically "I don't care how the hell you use me, but I want to help beat this fucking thing."


	5. Chuck (2)- Requests and Demands

The WICKED workers pushed Owen into a seat inside the building they were using as a recruitment facility in his area. They tested his blood, and when a silver slip of paper sprouted from the machine used to test for the virus he said,

"I've already told you I'm immune. I've already told you I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I'm sure, by now, you know where you'll want me to go. So, just send me there." Owen was done with games. He was done with pretending the world would be okay someday- he knew, now that it wouldn't be. All he could hope for was to make sure that little kids weren't murdering each other in the streets. Owen never wanted to see the look he'd seen in Rory's eyes. In death the boy had thought himself a murderer, and Owen supposed he was, but Rory was also innocent.

"Slow down there, Terminator. You need a psych assessment before we let you work for us." said a woman who seemed to be in charge. Her badge said 'Paige' on it "Look, you've pretty obviously been through some shit," she said, looking at his blood stained clothes, "but infected or immune we won't have crazies working for WICKED" Owen nodded

The psych assessment wasn't ideal, but it also wasn't a total disaster. They ruled that Owen was in shock and suffering from 'PTSD manifesting in temporary sociopathic thoughts and tendencies'. Personally, he didn't agree. Owen thought that the way he was acting was anything but temporary.

"Look," said Paige, when he was in her office later that day, "We have a spot. But since you're now without a family you have to sign off on what were going to do with you."

"That's fine, I don't care I'll do the dirtiest job you want me to." said Owen, glad that they had something for him.

"Well we would use you in an experiment," Paige began. She told him all about the maze, she told him that they might have to kill him to get the blueprints that they needed.

"But you really do seem like you've got a mind that could give us _extremely_ unique blueprints. And you have to understand. You'll probably be the youngest. You won't be anywhere near as smart as the other subjects. You'll likely die within two months of being there. Understand? You'll get a year and a half of training, but you don't get to turn back once you've consented. This is a death sentence." Paige looked guilty, like she was taking advantage of him, but Owen knew full well what he was doing. He knew he could get something out of her guilt, though.

"Fine," he said carefully "but since you can't pay my family, I want something in return"

"And what's that?" Asked Paige

"I want you to make me forget my family dying." he said, looking at the floor. "Not just in the maze, I mean. I want to forget, now. I want to think they sent me there because we needed the money, and I came after saying heartfelt goodbyes to all my siblings."

"Done." said Paige, actually sounding relieved that he had some requests of his own. "A berg will be here to collect you in three hours. you should go and get anything you might want to take."

"Alright." said Owen.

He went back to his house, he could smell the mixture of blood, and decomposition from the end of the front walk. He'd been right earlier, Mabel had killed Joel outside the house. So he carried the little boy's battered body, and lay it down next to Rory's. He laid Joanna and MAbel next to them, gently, as if he was afraid to wake them. He went upstairs and pulled his father's body out of his room, and Owen sat him down next to his mother.

He grabbed a few necessities to take with him, before covering the house in gasoline. As he walked out the front door he lit a match, and dropped it on the house. From a ways away Owen watched it burn, and when he heard the berg arrive he turned his back on the place for good.

"Your house?" Paige asked, curiously watching the place burn. Owen nodded, and boarded the berg with nothing but a few sets of clothes, and a toothbrush.

"Welcome to WICKED, Owen." said a man in a medical coat on the berg. "Now, lets get all those nasty memories out, shall we?"

In no time, Owen had been put under for the surgery.

"God, this kid looks like a god damned ape!" said one of the doctors good naturedly. The other doctor laughed with him.

"You know what we have to name this one, right?" the second doctor said.

"No, what?" his companion asked, obviously expecting a laugh

"Charles Darwin." both men bust out into laughter as the first one wrote it onto the chart

"No we can't!" he said, amused "They'll know exactly why we picked it!" both men still snorted with laughter

"It doesn't matter," said the other one excitedly "As long as they can't tell what his real name was they don't really care!"

The men once again doubled over in amusement.


	6. Minho (1)- Boston

Jackson was alone when he reached a settlement in Boston. It wasn't quarantined, but cranks were turned away one way or another. Settlements in this part of the country were generally very rough, so when Jackson, a spindly six year old, arrived everyone wanted to know his story.

He was a delicately statured asian boy, who ran faster than most kids with legs twice as long as his. He looked athletic and at least reasonably well fed, as well as being emotionally undamaged by the crumbling world around him. Jackson was well-loved by everyone at the settlement for his sharp wit, and for his optimism. Even though boys his age were everywhere Jackson was usually the first _kid_ that people had spoken to in quite a while.

So, no one asked where his parents were, or how he'd gotten to the settlement alive, because they didn't want to ruin the new lightness of the community.

He was taken in by a couple who'd lost their son. Their names were Maggie and Topher, and they had a sort of sad grace that held them together. Jackson was friendly and loving to them, and they were adoring parents in return.

Maggie would tell Jackson stories until he fell asleep, and on the rare occasion that he would wake up screaming in the nighttime she would rush to him, and tell him all about the world before the sun flares, with people in the cities and food that was actually just sugar, and where it really wasn't that common to find a child without someone taking care of them.

Topher tried to teach Jackson to fight, but realized that the boy already could, so mostly they just cooked together. Occasionally they would speak, but they didn't really need to, to know that they were father and son.

They lived like this for months. Just the three of them and the rest of the settlement, Jackson loved his life in Boston, but the whole settlement knew that it wouldn't last. Outside of a quarantine it was only a matter of time before someone got sick, or before a group of cranks attacked. And one day Maggie and Topher decided to leave.

"Listen, babe." said Maggie while she brushed his hair one night. "Topher and I are going to go and see if there's a quarantined city in Newark." She paused, waiting for a reaction.

Jackson felt like he might cry, but he hid it, and said

"Yeah, I figured you would do that soon.", but he really hadn't. to him Maggie and Topher felt like his real family. It was the first time he thought that people might actually love him.

"We'll come to get you, when we know there's a quarantine there, when we know it's safe, we'll come back and get you." She said, trying to catch his eye. Jackson looked at the floor. He knew then and there that they would never come back for him. He knew all too well how it looked to be abandoned, and this was it.

He wondered what he'd done wrong this time. He thought maybe he'd not been funny enough. Probably, though, it was that he wasn't happy enough. Maggie probably hated waking up to tell him stories. Jackson feared that it may just have been that they had figured out that he wasn't their son after all, that there was never anything he could have done to make them love him.

The night before the couple left for a quarantined city in Newark, Jackson slipped out of their little hut. He slid through the door in the dead of night, and looking up at the blue black sky he felt just like one of the lonely stars. He always had. So far away that no one ever really saw them before they were gone. Most people didn't even see them ever.

He arrived in a settlement near Baltimore a few days later, and introduced himself as Boston. People were curious about the boy's story, but they knew that t had to be disturbing. So, no one asked where his parents were, or how he'd gotten to the settlement alive, because they didn't want to ruin the new lightness of the community.

He moved on soon from the Baltimore Settlement. There simply wasn't a place for him There. Boston knew, now, that there really wasn't a place for him anywhere. He had places in his heart for Boston, and Jackson, and for Charleston, but they didn't have room for him. He knew what would happen if he went to a quarantine center. Plenty of people around him had gotten sick, and by this point it was obvious that he was immune. He knew that they would take him, and they would train him to be a guard for the cranks. He knew that he would die a gruesome death, and he probably wouldn't get to play with other kids, but at this point that was his fate either way.

So, Boston travelled the rest of the way to Norfolk. He looked at the towering walls, and walked up to be tested. Fifteen minutes later, he entered to find, as he had anticipated, a WICKED worker waiting for him.

Boston watched him take a massive breath, about to launch into some well-rehearsed spiel, but Boston stopped him

"You don't have to convince me. I'll just go." he said.

"Where are your parents?" asked the man.

"I haven't got any. There's no one to convince but me. Just take me."

And so, the man did

Author's Note: just so everyone knows I managed to snap a tendon in my wrist, and now typing hurts so I won't probably be updating too terribly quickly for the time being


	7. Minho (2)- Origin

Five months before the sun flares, Lim Sohee and Lim Jinwoo learned that places near the earth's equator would grow distinctly warmer over the coming decade. Deeply dreading the South Korean August Sohee, a cellular biologist in the third trimester of her pregnancy, and her husband Jinwoo, an accountant, decided to move somewhere colder before their third baby arrived.

In a few short weeks they were living in a small town house in New York. Jinwoo, Sohee, and their two children: Soo who was eight and Kigi who was six, and just days after the move the baby was born a month premature. By this time the little family had seen the extreme and unexplainable hatred that their neighborhood had for Koreans, and in a last-ditch effort to let the baby avoid the discrimination that they saw, they named him Patrick.

Patrick was a happy baby, but his prematurity meant that his doctor's visits were often, and that his medical bills were high, but they didn't give up. Jinwoo took the subway every day to take Patrick to a father-son bonding class, and then to daycare before he went to work at a local gas station.

Sohee, having been denied every job in cellular biology she could find interviews for, was struggling to help the family get by with her job as a receptionist at a laboratory in the city. Soo and Kigi walked to the school by their house and walked back home at precisely three oclock every day.

On one especially hot day Jinwoo was on the underground with Patrick, on their way home, while Sohee worked in the city, and the older kids walked home. When the light of the train cut out, followed by an intense wave of heat, Jinwoo was stricken with fear. after a few hours the other passengers found their own ways out of the train, but Jinwoo stayed. Still miles from his home, he hoped desperately that the power would come back and take them to his house, and he sang a soft lullaby into Patrick's ear, remembering nights when his mother would sing it to him.

Jinwoo waited, but finally time had won. His baby was hungry for dinner, he was desperate for sleep, and the oppressive heat felt thick and heavy in his lungs. He climbed out of a broken window, carrying Patrick with him all the while, and headed for the stairs leading to the sidewalk outside. About half way up he clutched the banister for support, and his hand was seared by the shockingly hot metal.

When he looked closely he could see wakes of heat flowing off of the metal and he looked to the top of the stairs, realizing his children's fate. Jinwoo fell to his knees knowing that his children were dead, that his wife would likely not survive the chaos of the city above him, and his total lack of control was more clear to him, in that moment than it had ever been, but in his arms was one, single, wriggling, crying iota of hope. And he made his way to the next exit over, hoping that this one would be cooler.

Weeks later the two of them had finally found refuge with a group hiding out in a skyscraper connected to the underground. They lived with the group for five years. They had made friends, and really become family with the people there, and when they all moved from the skyscraper to the countryside. Their life was a simple one, they hunted for food. They built their houses. They built a new life from the ground up.

Jinwoo missed his family dreadfully. As Patrick grew up it became increasingly difficult for Jinwoo to find the Korea in him. He spoke only english, his skin was the color of his father's but Jinwoo only knew that the family he knew had been killed while he had been left with only the half baked leftovers of their presence. Then the darts came. They reigned down like an act of God, slaughtering nearly everyone. And when Jinwoo found his son with a dart buried deeply into one of his arms he finally saw an out.

"Baby boy, I'm sorry you're sick." he said, as he brushed his son's hair from his face. "But that means that I have to leave you here. It will be best that way." he said. Though Patrick looked unconvinced as he began to bawl, realizing that his father was leaving him. That his father would not fight for him until he died.

Jinwoo walked away from the massacre with a dreadful sense of defeat. He knew he would never have his son back. He knew he would never have his wife, or his other children, and his friends were all dead and gone. Jinwoo took a long knife from his bag that he had carried for years now. He had only ever thought to use it on someone else. Never realizing that the best person to kill was behind the blade.

He cut deeply into his wrists, the flesh tearing and his hand spasming as he ripped through tendons. Blood poured from his arm, and the pain was unbearable. At last, after many minutes, he collapsed. Jinwoo was dead.

Back at camp Patrick waited for death. He sat, his little body tensed with fear, as he waited for some sudden horrible pain, or some other confirmation that he was going to die soon, but none came. He took the dart out of his arm with a sharp pain. He waited more. He hummed a lullaby that he remembered in his father's quiet voice, but no end came.

Patrick stood up, and walked to the little house where he and his father had lived. He got food, clothes, and a knife, and he left. He didn't know if he would die, but he didn't want to do it alone, so he walked.

Hours later he found his father on the ground. there was so much blood that Patrick knew it was too late to do anything. His father's palor was shocking, but not as much as the peace on his face. PAtrick knew then that he had only ever made his father miserable.

Patrick had to find someone to make happy. He needed to know that he wasn't just as deadly as the darts that fell from the sky, so he walked. He wanted desperately to find other people. To find someone to care for him. Two days later he arrived in front of a sign that read "Welcome to Charleston", and he decided that He could be called Charlie.

Patrick was a symbol of his father's distance. Of his demise. But Charlie was new. Charlie was happy. And so he pretended he was okay. Charlie acted the part of the adorable little kid, he ignored the nightmares in which his father would arrive, asking Charlie why he didn't save him, and calling him Patrick.

Whenever he felt stressed he looked up at the stars. Charlie looked at the stars and thought of how he wished to be like them. He was alone in some far off corner of space, and all he was trying to do was shed some light.


	8. Alby (1)- The last Christmas Part One

Jude, Adam, and Isaac had always looked forward to christmas. Ever since he could remember Jude would count down the days until December 25th, the only day of the year that everyone just silently agreed to be happy. In their small colony which was in northern Texas, Christmas had always been a given. Whether it meant singing carols in the dark underground tunnels, or saving an especially shiny penknife for Adam, Isaac and Jude had always had the most extreme love of the holiday season.

When the three boy's parents had died in the sun flares, christmas had taken a bizarre turn: the boys had stopped receiving so many gifts, and the holiday had, somehow, become a competition of who could give the most spectacular thing.

The last christmas that Isaac was alive had been one of the best, in terms of preparation:

"Get up you lazy dunce!" Isaac shouted to his identical twin, shaking the boy violently. Jude woke with a start, and nearly swung a fist at his brother who ducked out of sight and scampered into another room. Isaac was shy before everyone but his twin, and he was talkative when he had things to say, but Isaac never spoke more than he needed to.

Jude dressed and went to the kitchen to find Isaac sitting solitarily at the table waiting patiently for Adam to bring him some breakfast. Soon enough Adam sat with the two of them and they ate some long-past-stale-bread which they dipped in cups of water to make sure they didn't break any teeth (they had learned that lesson from one of Adam's molars a few months back).

"So, what're you two up to today?" Adam asked playfully, knowing that, it being christmas eve, neither of them could say.

"Oh, only making sure that I get the most legendary present that neither of you will ever be able to top." said Jude, gloatingly. Isaac chuckled quietly, and said

"Oh, you two will feel so humiliated when you see what I got the both of you."

"Is that so?" challenged Adam "well I think we'd better stop the trash talk and get to work. That is, unless you two are already done with your flimsy baby gifts!" he jeered.

"Are not!" Jude, who had been done for months now, nearly yelled.

Isaac and Jude then ran right out the door and over to a small creek, just a few hundred yards from their little hut.

"So," said Isaac, smirking "you actually are done aren't you" and just as he did the boys heard a rustling, and two cranks emerged from the bushes.

"Hello, sweetums." said an old lady in a deep southern drawl. They both froze in horror. She looked long past decomposition, and a chunk of bloody scalp fell to the ground as she said "Over the river and through the woods. To Grandmother's house you'll go." And then she came at them.


End file.
